


Like I See You

by inkandwords



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8888443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkandwords/pseuds/inkandwords
Summary: In which Yuri epically fails at feelings. But Otabek wouldn’t have him any other way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking of Otabek being into Yuri with longer hair and this happened. I just love these two. Someone please drag me out of this hell.

“Your hair got longer.”

“Yeah,” Yuri scoffs as he removes the motorcycle helmet and shakes out the mess it’s made of his hair. He’s already used to Otabek’s blunt commentary, but glances at him with a raised eyebrow and takes the bait anyway, “hair does that. Yours did it, too.”

Otabek reaches over and rolls a few of Yuri’s strands between his fingertips with a wistful purse of his lips. “I guess it did. Yours suits you, though. I couldn’t really tell how much it had grown over Skype.”

“Is that you trying to say you missed me?” Rolling his eyes, Yuri shoves Otabek away with a laugh. “Stop messing with my hair, jerk. Or I’ll put it back up just to piss you off.”

“That would work if I had your anger issues. Besides, I don’t mind so much. It suits you either way,” Otabek says, then hastily adds, “and yes, that was me saying I missed you.” 

Yuri nearly trips on a sidewalk crack, slightly annoyed at the heat that instantly warms his face. He would have been thankful for the scarf he tugs up to cover everything below his eyes had the accessory not been a gift from Otabek the year before.

“You look flushed. Are you sure you feel all right?” Otabek stops walking and turns toward him. “We could have done this when you were fully recovered.”

Otabek’s concern is genuine and even years later, Yuri is still surprised by how little that part of him has changed, how it’s endeared Otabek to him even more. The errant thought makes him a little less coordinated than he’d like to be, but he can always blame it on being sick. Not that he needs an excuse. 

Yuri waves him off. “When’d you turn into my mother? Mila, Yakov, and Lilia all drive me crazy with that shit. I haven’t left my apartment in two days because someone’s always nagging and watching me like a hawk; I need a fucking break or I swear I’m gonna kill someone.”

Otabek looks at him with a sort of knowing scrutiny. “You snuck out, didn’t you?”

Without missing a beat, Yuri retorts, “is that you complaining?”

“Didn’t say I was,” Otabek says matter-of-factly, though Yuri doesn’t miss the amusement there. “I wanted to see my best friend. I was only asking in case I needed to call your grandfather and tell him that you passed out in the cold because you were too stubborn to rest. Might need to carry you to hospital.” He nudges Yuri with a short chuckle. “Bridal-style.”

The word “friend” leaves a new kind of sting, one Yuri hasn’t quite yet figured out. So he doesn’t. Instead, he scrunches his nose and glares at whatever’s in front of him; a passerby in this case, who looks as though someone had just threatened everything she cares about. “I’d kick your ass into next week.”

“Still the same old Russian punk.”

“Russian punk, my ass. I could totally beat you.”

“Just because you’re now taller than me doesn’t mean you can kick anyone’s ass, Kit.”

With a scowl, Yuri digs his knee behind Otabek’s leg before he hurries off toward the cafe. He doesn’t know why the nickname still bothers him; maybe it’s a reminder of the screaming legion that refuses to leave him the hell alone. “Kitten”, they called him. Like some poor, cute little helpless thing to be gawked at and condescendingly petted. 

Maybe it’s something that stings a little deeper. He shoves that thought aside, too.

“See? Russian punk,” Otabek says when he catches up easily enough despite Yuri’s long-legged advantage. “You call me Beka all the time. It’s just a nickname. At least I don’t call you ‘kitten’.”

“Because you’re smart and not annoying. Anyway, it’s not the same,” Yuri mutters, shoving the door open and ordering their usual while Otabek scans around for a place to sit. “Don’t bother. I wanna walk around a while.”

“Your wish is my command,” Otabek says with a teasing dip forward meant to mimic a grand bow.

Yuri glowers and nearly flings his coffee at him in retaliation, but thinks better of it in case the scene causes his absent fan base to magically emerge from the shadows. 

“Fuck off with that,” he says once they get outside. Otabek’s subtle expression shows more than he likely means to, but no one other than Yuri would have been able to pick up on it anyway. “You know I hate that crap. All those ugly little shits calling you some white knight coming to save my fairy ass--”

“Well, I did save you from them--”

“Beka.”

“I don’t mind it. The name, I mean.”

“You don’t mind anything!” Yuri interjects, jaw clenching as he takes a sip of his coffee and setting loose a string of curses when it scalds his tongue. “ _I_ mind it! It makes me sound like some weak little bitch who needs saving a--”

“That was five years ago,” Otabek says, still calm despite Yuri’s spontaneous outburst. “You weren’t weak then and you’re not weak now. Besides, you know I’m joking. You don’t need me to save you. You don’t need anyone--”

“--but myself,” Yuri finishes, repeating the line he’s thrown at Otabek more times during his ranting binges than he’d care to remember. He flushes from sudden embarrassment. “I don’t mean you. You know that.”

“Sure,” Otabek says, but something there makes Yuri feel a pang in his chest. Guilt, maybe. It’s the only explanation Yuri can think of without having to go into territory he doesn’t want to revisit right then.

“I mean, I’m taller and stronger and older and they make me seem like I’m still some scrawny fifteen year old princess going through my adolescent crisis.” Yuri’s eyebrows pinch together as he scowls. "They throw themselves at me, make predictions about my skating, my personal life, _you_ , even, and all the while I’m thinking, ‘ _you’re all assholes, that’s not me, you don’t know me at all_ ’--” When he realizes where he’s going with it, he bites his tongue to keep from saying more. “Never mind. I’m tired and thinking makes my head hurt. I don’t have a personal life anyway. Not like you do. How’d the date with that girl go? The one you met at the airport last month?”

The mention of it brings back the inexplicable pang in Yuri’s chest and he wonders for a second why he thought to ask about it when really, all he wants to do now is go back to the hotel and sleep off whatever vitriol he feels coming on.

“I guess we’re changing the subject then,” Otabek says, knowing when to stop pushing. “It wasn’t a date. It was coffee. At the airport. It wasn’t a big deal.” He is quiet for a moment. Then he shrugs and adds, “she was nice, but not my type. Polite. If I wanted overly polite, I wouldn’t still be friends with you.”

“Hey, I’m polite to you!”

Otabek chuckles. “The first time I picked you up on the bike, you looked like you wanted to murder me. I’d hardly call that polite.”

Yuri glowers and tucks his free hand into his jacket pocket. “I was being chased, for fuck’s sake!”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. It was honest, which is something I’ve always liked about you. I can be myself because you’re going to be who you are and I don’t have to guess if it’s real.”

“You were the one who said we’re a lot alike.”

“Are you disagreeing?”

Petulantly, Yuri lifts the coffee cup to his face and mutters behind it. “No.”

“Good. You’re cute when you’re agreeable,” Otabek teases, though his expression barely hints a change. “Maybe the fans have a chance with you after all.”

“I’d rather blind myself with a fire poker.”

_“Yuratchka! Oh my god, it’s Yuratchka!”  
_

_“He’s over here!! Quick!!”_

“Speak of the lynching mob. Are you fucking kidding me?! I can’t go anywhere without those screeching hags coming t--”

Before he can finish, Otabek grabs the coffee from Yuri’s hand, tosses both cups into the waste bin nearby, and murmurs so close to Yuri’s ear that the unexpected sensation makes him shiver. “Shut up and _run_.”

“What the hell are y--”

Again, he’s cut off, but this time by a hard tug of his hand as he tries not to trip over his own feet while Otabek breaks into a sudden sprint. 

“Beka, wait--”

“This way,” Otabek says, cutting around the next corner and running a few meters before ducking into a dimly lit alley.

The deafening shrieks follow and as they get closer, Yuri shrinks back against the wall as much as he’s able, though his larger build makes it impossible to completely hide him away. Then Otabek speaks, cradles a hand behind Yuri’s head to force it down so that Yuri’s forehead anchors against Otabek’s shoulder.

“Crouch a little and keep your head down,” he says, inching them closer to the shadows cast by one of the large contraptions littering the narrow streetway.

Yuri swallows the lump forming in his throat when he realizes that Otabek is pressed against him, closer than he’s used to, but not entirely unfamiliar. It’s difficult to keep his breaths steady when half his nose is squashed into Otabek’s collarbone, and it’s then he realizes that the hand Otabek had grabbed earlier in his mad dash is still where it had been moments before. 

Secure, tight, fingers laced with Otabek’s; a gesture that isn’t entirely unfamiliar either. 

He doesn’t move, shuts his eyes so he can concentrate on getting rid of the annoying pang that’s returned in his chest. Otabek’s breaths are soft, calm despite their spontaneous getaway, and Yuri counts them, tries to measure his own to match the rhythm. The ear-splitting screeches fade as Yuri’s fans continue their rabid search for him elsewhere, and a minute later, the only thing Yuri hears is silence. 

“Beka,” he says, lifting his head up to look around, but Otabek doesn’t move. Doesn’t budge from his position and Yuri is momentarily confused. “The hags are gone.”

Otabek is quiet as he pulls back enough to meet Yuri’s eyes. “I know.”

“Why the hell would you even think I’d go out with any of them?” Yuri says, making a face. “They’re all a bunch of crazy fucking--”

Otabek shrugs and smiles. The barest hint of it, but it’s all Yuri needs to see before he mimics it. “I was widening the net. They can’t all be that bad. Maybe you would find someone you could eventually need. Someone who could see you like I see you.”

“What do you mean?” Yuri asks, the tightness in his voice unintentional as he tries to rage against the pang in his chest, tries to force it away so he can argue against what Otabek has said. 

“A person with eyes like a soldier. Someone who is strong, who can fight and win, who doesn’t give up. Not defenseless. Not pathetic. Not a kitten. The Ice Tiger of Russia.” Otabek’s smile widens a fraction. “I’m not going to call you that, though.”

Yuri laughs out loud despite the twinge in his chest and without thinking, he leans in and presses their lips together. It’s short, more a brush than an actual kiss, but it’s enough to silence them both. Yuri’s eyes widen, matches the surprise mirrored in Otabek’s bewildered gaze, and for a second, he panics. “Forget I did that! That was so fucking stupid--”

“Why?”

The question stumps Yuri and he stops attempting to shove Otabek back. “What the hell do you mean ‘why’?! ‘Cause you’re my god damn person, that’s why!” he snaps, hands frantically flailing in an attempt to explain what the hell that means exactly, and apparently doing a spectacular job if Otabek’s expression is any indication. “My friend! You’re my--” Then he huffs in frustration and drops to an annoyed mutter, “like hell I’m gonna pull something Porky’s done. I need to go home. Probably drown myself in cold medicine or something. This is fucking pathetic--”

“Yura.” 

The fondness in the address stops Yuri mid-sentence as he takes in the grin Otabek is wearing, much to his chagrin and obvious humiliation. “Don’t fucking say it. I fucked up. I know, okay? God damn it, I don’t know why just -- I know I--”

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Otabek says, and the kiss that follows lingers longer than the first, warm and genuine enough to overshadow the pang trying to burrow a permanent home in Yuri’s chest. Deliberate. Real. Just like everything Otabek has been. Still is.

When they pull away, all Yuri can think to mumble is, “shut the fuck up, I’m not cute,” before it dawns on him that they’re still holding hands. Still pressed together in the dark alley when there’s really no logical reason they should be.

"You’re my person, too. I was just waiting until you realized it.” Straightforward, to the point. And then because he is the way he is, Otabek says, “are you going to finally go out with me or not?”

“That depends. Are you gonna make me shake on it again?”

Otabek laughs, says “I have a better idea”, but Yuri beats him to it. Commemorates it with a picture he snaps mid-kiss and posts on his Instagram for all to see. He turns his phone and Otabek smiles at the caption, cheeks tinged pink enough to make the pang in Yuri’s chest a distant memory:

_celebrating my bday w/ my person #icetigeranddarkhorse #suckitbitches_

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are always super appreciated ♥♥♥ and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :D
> 
> on tumblr [**@limitlessmonster**](http://limitlessmonster.tumblr.com)


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